


it's about time

by LazuliQuetzal



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Canon Compliant, Gen, Time Loop, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 18:06:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6294454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazuliQuetzal/pseuds/LazuliQuetzal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Oikawa remembered something the head coach said, once. He didn’t think he was meant to hear it -- it was one of those offhand, ‘coach comments’ that the players pretended not to listen to.<br/><i>“Nine times out of ten, we beat Karasuno,” </i>he’d said to the assistant coach. <i>“But there’s always that possibility that they’ll beat us instead.”</i></p>
  <p>Nine times out of ten, Aobajousai was the better team. But there was always that chance. Always a possibility.<br/>Oikawa wondered if he would ever see it happen.</p>
</blockquote>Or, Oikawa and Iwaizumi repeat their second match against Karasuno. Over and over and over.
            </blockquote>





	it's about time

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything in four months and then I pounded this out in four days.
> 
> (AKA, the Aobajousai closure fic.)
> 
> If you know anything about me, you know that I'm a huge fan of the time travel trope. This happened as a result.

Three sets, two deuces, and a 27-25 win against Tobio and Karasuno.

Oikawa was tired and worn, but triumphant.

 _Not today,_ he thought, his grin overtaking his face. _You won't surpass me today._

His eyes met Kageyama's from across the net, and the dark-haired setter scowled and turned away, his eyes wet and a ferocious snarl at his lips.

“We did it,” Iwaizumi breathed out beside him. His mouth was slightly slackened, his eyes bright.

Makki and Mattsun beamed. The first and second years were cheering together in a huddle. Out of the corner of his eye, Oikawa could see Yahaba punching Kyoutani with a suspiciously shiny gaze.

“We did it,” Iwaizumi repeated.

In spite of his worn body, Oikawa felt his heart speed up. _They did it._

Just last year, bearing Karasuno wouldn't have been a huge feat. Just last year, this wouldn't have been a game worth remembering, a game worth the hundreds of hours spent practicing his serve.

Karasuno -- and Tobio -- had far exceeded Oikawa's expectations, but that didn't matter anymore.

“This year, we can take Shiratorizawa down,” Oikawa declared.

His voice was clear, unwavering. He stood tall, the triumph of their game written into his very bones. He'd done it. Twice now, he had proven that he was better than Kageyama; twice now he and Seijoh had emerged victorious from a battle with the crows.

Ushijima wouldn't know what hit him.

Oikawa turned his attention back to the court. As one, his team lined up on the edge of the court. They shook hands with Karasuno.

Even as Oikawa felt the rising glee in his chest, he could also feel the sense of loss and disappointment radiating from Karasuno's captain. Sawamura had a tight smile on his face, like he was holding back a scream of frustration.

 _This was his last game._ The thought, unbidden, danced across his mind, but he chased it away.

“Good game,” he said quietly, and for once it was sincere.

Sawamura only nodded, his lips pressed tightly together even as the tears of his teammates mingled with their sweat. He was the captain. Captains couldn't cry here. Not in the court.

(Oikawa had had his fair share of those moments.)

Once their handshakes were over and done with, Aobajousai made their way to the locker rooms. Oikawa hung back, watching his team laugh and celebrate their victory over Karasuno.

“I was kind of disappointed,” Iwaizumi said, and Oikawa jumped.

“Oi! How long have you been standing next to me?”

Iwaizumi, the bastard, only lifted an eyebrow. “Are you really that focused on beating Shiratorizawa? I've been next to you since the game ended.”

Oikawa made a face. “You're too sneaky, Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi shrugged in response.

“So why are you disappointed?” Oikawa asked.

Iwaizumi smirked, his hands behind his head in a relaxed posture. “I was really hoping that you’d treat me to some ramen.”

Oikawa barked out a laugh and punched his friend in the shoulder. He grinned. “If we beat Shiratorizawa, I'll take you to the best ramen stand in town.”

They joked and laughed their way into the locker room, and changed out of their uniforms. The conversation was light and loose. Aobajousai had always prided themselves on teamwork and strong bonds. Even Kyoutani was joining in with a few words of his own. With the rush of victory still buzzing in their minds, they made their way out of the locker room and out of the gym. Their steps were strong and springy. They walked with their heads held high.

Later, when they boarded the bus, Oikawa claimed the window seat with unnecessary enthusiasm. Rolling his eyes, Iwaizumi took the spot next to him.

Oikawa stared out the window. The sun was setting. Oikawa had often heard of sunsets signifying a closing, an ending… but for him, this was a start.

And Oikawa grinned. His season wasn't over yet.

“When,” Iwaizumi spoke up.

Oikawa blinked. He turned to stare at Iwaizumi, confused. “What?” He asked.

“Earlier,” Iwaizumi said. “You said, ‘ _if_ we beat Shiratorizawa.’” He leaned back into the bus seat and gave Oikawa a small but encouraging smile. “The word is ‘ _when’_ , dumbass.”

Oikawa stared at him for a moment before mirroring the smile. He grinned. “We did good today, huh?”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi agreed. “We won.”

“We _won,_ ” Oikawa echoed. He tilted his head down, his hair flopping into his eyes. Oikawa’s signature smirk crossed his face. “And we’ll keep on winning.”

 

 

That was the plan, at least.

 

* * *

 

Oikawa woke up in his bed, which was strange, because he didn’t actually remember getting off the bus and heading home.

 _I must be really tired,_ he thought, but when he moved to get up, his body was surprisingly… not sore. His knee didn’t hurt half as much as he expected it to, and in spite of all his strong serving yesterday, he didn’t feel the pain in his shoulders as he stretched his arms up above his head.

Yawning, he pulled off the covers and headed to the bathroom.

Still half asleep, he went through his daily routine. Once he got dressed, he made his way downstairs and dropped into a seat at the table, where his mother had set out some food for him.

And blinked.

In front of him was… his breakfast. It was pretty average, as far as breakfasts go: a small bowl of miso soup, rice, and some leftover curry from a couple nights ago. But.

He could’ve sworn his food was arranged _exactly_ the same as it was yesterday.

“I see you’re up,” his mother said, and she turned to smile at him. “Are you excited?”

“Yeah,” he answered honestly, and even the thought of _we won we won we’re playing Shiratorizawa tomorrow_ made his heart race.

His mom grinned. “I’m sure you are,” she hummed. “It’s a big game. You’ve been waiting for this.”

Oikawa nodded in agreement and quietly ate his breakfast.

“Let me know how it goes, okay?” She said. “And do try and be civil to Tobio-kun. Hajime told me what happened _last_ time.”

“You told me already,” Oikawa sighed, remembering yesterday morning. His mother had said the exact same thing. Iwaizumi, the traitor, still enjoyed tattling on him for the tiniest things…Honestly, it was just some good natured rivalry…

With a first year...

“Wait,” Oikawa said suddenly, slightly confused. “Tobio-chan?”

 _He won’t be there tomorrow,_ he thought, with a little flash of guilty glee. _We won._

His mom frowned. “You might be playing Karasuno today, right?”

Oikawa reached for the glass set out next to him. “No, we played them yest --” he paused at the sight of the drink in his hand.

“Hmm?”

“Kaa-san,” Oikawa said. “Did you buy more milk? I thought we ran out yesterday.”

“No, that’s the last of it,” she said, and she gestured to where an empty milk carton was sitting in their trash. “I’ll buy more later today.”

_I’ll buy more later today._

_Do try and be civil to Tobio-kun._

The sudden onslaught of deja vu increased as Oikawa’s eyes darted around the room.

“Tooru? Is something wrong?” His mother asked.

The moment passed, and everything returned to normal.

Oikawa laughed and shook his head. “No,” he said, a little sheepish. “I’m fine. Just a little deja vu.”

His mother smiled. “You should go grab your things,” she said. “You have things to do today.”

“I wish I could sleep in longer,” Oikawa muttered, as he went up to grab his volleyball bag and his school supplies. “That game was intense.”

Without looking at the screen, he grabbed his phone off his nightstand and headed down. Oikawa bid his mother a quick goodbye and bounded out the door.

As expected, Iwaizumi was waiting a few blocks down.

“Iwa-chan!” He called out, shooting a bright smile at his friend. “Good morning -- why are you looking at me like that?”

Oikawa paused at the expression on Iwaizumi’s face. His friend was scowling -- no surprises there -- but he’d known Iwaizumi for a _long_ time, and he could read the little hints of suspicion and confusion lacing his expression.

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi said, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “What happened yesterday?”

Oikawa frowned. “Well, we won, right?” His eyes widened and he stared at Iwaizumi. “Don’t tell me you forgot that we beat Karasuno!”

He could see the relaxing of muscles, the little sigh of relief Iwaizumi let out.

“What?” Oikawa asked.

“Thank God,” he said. “I thought I was hallucinating or something. Never mind.”

Oikawa perked up. “Don’t tell me --”

“ _No,_ Trashykawa, I did _not get abducted by aliens._ ”

Oikawa pouted. “Oh, shut up.”

He fell into step next to the shorter man, walking by his side like they always did every morning.

“So,” he said conversationally. “What were you hallucinating about?”

“Kind of stupid, actually,” Iwaizumi laughed. “I came down, and the note that my dad left yesterday was still on the table.”

“The one about how he’s on a business trip for a couple days and he’s sorry that he couldn’t make it to the game?” Oikawa asked.

“Yeah, that one,” Iwaizumi answered. “I could’ve sworn I threw it away yesterday, but I guess it didn’t. And then my phone said it was the twenty-fifth, and I was really confused.” Iwaizumi paused. “You didn't change the date on my phone, did you?”

Oikawa shook his head. “I was so tired, I don't even remember coming home. It was probably Mattsun or Makki.”

“Yeah, well. It kinda freaked me out,” Iwaizumi admitted somewhat sheepishly. “For a second, I thought beating Karasuno was a dream.”

“Hell no,” Oikawa said, his voice fierce. “We _won_ that game. We _deserve_ that game. I didn't spend ten thousand hours honing that serve for a hallucination. Blooming talent like mine takes _dedication._ ”

Iwaizumi snorted. “I'll never understand how you can be an inspirational captain and an arrogant dumbass in the same sentence.”

Oikawa blinked.

Iwaizumi paused.

A wide grin began to make its way onto Oikawa's face, and Iwaizumi stiffened.

“I didn't --” Iwaizumi shouted, but he was cut off by the sudden onslaught of a tall, sappy, man-child enthusiastically wrapping his arms around him.

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa cried out.

Iwaizumi groaned as the fake emotion leeched out of Oikawa's pseudo-sentimental blubbering.

“You really think I'm an inspirational captain?”

“Not anymore, Shittykawa!” Iwaizumi shouted, and in one, swift motion, he unhooked Oikawa's arms and kicked his friend in the butt.

Oikawa, who was now on paying on the ground and probably nursing a bruised tailbone, only grinned. “I'll remember this,” he teased. “I'm _inspirational._ ”

“Shut up, dumbass,” Iwaizumi grumbled, but there was an underlying fondness in his voice.

Oikawa smiled as he got to his feet. Together, they headed to the gym for morning practice.

 

* * *

 

They didn’t have morning practice.

In fact, as soon as they opened the door to the gym, they were crowded with an anxious looking Mattsun and a pissed off Makki.

“What the hell were you two doing?” Makki grumbled. “Let's go! They're all waiting!”

Oikawa and Iwaizumi blinked. “For what?”

“For you two to get on the bus, dumbass!” Makki yelled, and he grabbed them both by the arms and dragged. “We can’t play Dewaichi without our setter and our ace! Get your asses moving!”

The words were so baffling that even Iwaizumi didn't protest to Mattsun and Makki physically dragging them to the school bus.

Oikawa shot Iwaizumi a startled look, and he could tell they were both thinking the same thing.

_Dewaichi?_

Mattsun and Makki shoved them into two empty seats -- the same seats that they had claimed yesterday -- and the two best friends flinched as their coach moved in with a frustrated expression.

“Where were you?” he asked. “No, don't tell me -- Oikawa slept in because he stayed up late watching Dewaichi’s and Karasuno’s matches?”

Oikawa blinked. He opened his mouth, and then closed it.

Were they playing Dewaichi… again?

“But--” he started.

“You push yourself too hard,” their coach cut him off, shaking his head. “Let's go.”

Some of the first and second years were staring at them with wide eyes. Mattsun and Makki sat in the row ahead of them, though they seemed to be giving them the silent treatment.

“Dewaichi?” Iwaizumi whispered to Oikawa. “We played them yesterday! Aren't they knocked out of the tournament?”

Oikawa frowned. “They _should_ be…”

“What the fuck is going on?” Iwaizumi hissed.

“How should I know?” Oikawa asked. “It's like everyone completely forgot about yesterday --” he cut off.

“What is it?”

Oikawa mentally ran through his morning, overturning every detail in his head.

Not being sore. Not being tired. The milk, his mother's comments, the deja vu.

 _Did you change the date on my phone?_ Iwaizumi had asked.

Oikawa could feel a sinking feeling in his stomach as he pulled out his own phone to check the date. And sure enough -- it read October 25th.

“Iwa-chan,” he said, his voice low and serious. “Remember what you said this morning?”

Iwaizumi stiffened. “You’re not saying…”

_That beating Karasuno was just a dream?_

“I can't think of anything else,” Oikawa admitted. “I mean, we could have been abducted and had false memories implanted in our heads, but I'd like to think the aliens aren't that cruel.”

Cruel. It was cruel.

Because they had won. They _won._ They beat Dewaichi, and Dateko, and they beat Karasuno, and they finally, _finally_ had another chance to crush Shiratorizawa and make it to the national stage --

“No,” Iwaizumi said. “ _No_. I _refuse_. We worked _way_ too fucking hard for that win. You finally got that serve down, and there was that perfect toss at the very end from the far side of the court...”

“That was a good toss, huh?” Oikawa said, and he could hear the hysteria leaking into his voice. “That was _real_ , please tell me that was real _\--_ you remember it too…”

Were they going to have to do that again? Was it really all a dream?

Oikawa sucked in a breath. He felt sweat running down his neck, moistening his palms. He tried to breathe, but he couldn't; the air was too thick, too dry. What if it was just a dream? What if it was just a fantasy, what if he could never beat Kageyama, what if he could never beat Ushijima, never be good enough to even play on the same court --

“Oikawa.”

Iwaizumi's deep voice dragged him back to reality, grounding him in the moment. He felt his friend turn to grab him by the shoulders, and he suddenly found himself facing the spiker, face to face.

“Calm down,” Iwaizumi said.

Oikawa tried to breathe again, but failed. He shook his head, trying to shake away the panicked thoughts away.

Tentatively, he tried to inhale again. He felt Iwaizumi's grip relax as he successfully managed to take in oxygen.

“So, what are we going to do?” Iwaizumi asked, as though he were planning a strategy for a volleyball game.

Oikawa was silent for a few moments, thinking hard.

“Well, we’re not _sure_ it’s a dream, but we’re also not sure if it’s _not_ a dream,” he said slowly. “I guess… we should act like we did yesterday? Because if it’s time travel, we _really_ want to avoid messing with the timeline.”

He’d seen enough sci-fi to know that was a bad idea.

“Okay,” Iwaizumi said. “Okay, so basically… act natural. And surprised.”

Oikawa made a face. “I guess that means I’d have to let Tobio-chan’s dump go through,” he said, thinking of the end of the game. “But -- well, we don’t know for _sure_ if that’ll happen again.”

“Right,” Iwaizumi said.

They fell silent. If ‘yesterday’ was some freak hallucination, then nothing was certain anymore. Dewaichi might win. Dateko might win. Worst of all, _Karasuno_ might win.

And those feelings of victory, those moments of sheer elation and _triumph_ \-- would have all been for nothing.

“We did it once,” Iwaizumi said, his voice only mildly reassuring. “We can do it again.”

Oikawa really hoped so.

 

* * *

 

It was really disconcerting how accurate their dream had been.

The game with Dewaichi was exactly the same; they beat Dateko just like they did before. Iwaizumi pulled off his spike straight through the blockers’ wall, and the crowd went wild.

He and Oikawa laughed and cheered and celebrated with everyone else, but there was something false about it, too -- they were too tense, too anxious, and too confused.

Their ‘dream’ had been extremely detailed, and incredibly accurate to reality. There was no way it was a dream -- and yet, here they were, drifting through games they’ve already played, having conversations they’ve already had.

“So far, everything’s been the same,” Oikawa whispered to Iwaizumi, as they headed over to the next court. He could see Karasuno warming up. Yahaba and Kindaichi muttered while glancing at Karasuno’s new manager. Even the order of their warm up was the same, something they’d seen before. “We can win this.”

“Don’t get cocky,” Iwaizumi warned. “Karasuno’s always got something up their sleeve.”

They started their own warm up. Off to the side, Yahaba tossed a ball towards Karasuno’s manager, and Kindaichi laughed his ass off when his flirting attempt failed.

Oikawa shook hands with Sawamura; the other captain’s comments of scoundrels and failures still as confusing as ever. Just like before, Aobajousai was serving.

Their team gathered around for one last round of advice. Oikawa exchanged a glance with Iwaizumi before he opened his mouth to speak.

“...I likely don’t have to tell you guys, but Karasuno is a formidable opponent,” he began.

“It’s rare for you to speak so frankly,” Makki said.

Oikawa paused and sucked in a breath. He remembered what he’d said the first time around. “That’s ‘cause I still can’t shake the memory of our last match with them,” he managed to say, and this time, the words felt so much more significant. _I still can’t shake the memory,_ he thought. _But was it even real?_

“If we let our guard down, they’ll eat us alive. Let’s go out there and start this thing off with a sizable lead,” he finished.

“Yeah!”

He moved towards his position on the court but paused.

“We’re counting on you, captain.”

Oikawa stood still. Even when expecting this, he still felt himself getting embarrassed. He let Iwaizumi approach him, and though the words were the same, there was something inherently different than it was the first time around.

“We’ll be counting on your serve at the very beginning,” Iwaizumi declared. “If you screw it up… you’re treating us to ramen.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes met his own.

 _We’ll see it when we beat Shiratorizawa,_ Oikawa promised silently.

 _I know,_ Iwaizumi seemed to say. _But Karasuno’s always got something up their sleeve._

 

* * *

 

Perhaps the first time around, they did.

But Iwaizumi and Oikawa were not caught off guard by the libero’s toss; they were expecting it. Still, they’d promised to not change anything too drastically. Karasuno took the first point.

The game proceeded, exactly as it did the first time around. Kyoutani came in at the end of the first set. Their attacks shifted and reset. The rhythm flowed, halted, and changed directions.

Just like before, it took everything they had just to keep up.

Everything in Oikawa screamed in frustration as he kept himself from saving Kageyama's dump shot in the third set. Intentionally losing a point was a concept Oikawa never thought he’d have to deal with.

 _We win,_ he reminded himself. _We win._

And a few minutes later, he found himself running after an out of control ball, the shouts around him begging him to get it. The ball fell into Oikawa’s hands, and he _strained,_ sending it flying across the court -- right to where Iwaizumi was waiting with a perfect spike. And just like before, the ball flew straight and true, slamming into the corner of the court with a loud _bang._

With one last quick to Kindaichi and with Iwaizumi spitting the final nail in the coffin, Aobajousai secured their win against Karasuno.

Again.

“We did it,” Iwaizumi breathed out, his chest heaving up and down.

Oikawa grinned. “We won.”

 

* * *

 

The victory was short-lived.

 

* * *

 

When Oikawa found himself in his bed again, the first thing he did was check his phone.

_October 25th._

Groaning, he punched in Iwaizumi’s number. He hardly had to wait -- Iwaizumi picked up even before the first ring was over.

“I don’t know,” was the first thing Iwaizumi said.

“Do we just try again?”

“Maybe?”

 

* * *

 

Twenty-four hours later, Oikawa woke up on his fourth October 25th, and Iwaizumi picked up right after he hit call.

“I guess repeating everything didn’t help.”

“No.”

“This rules out the possibility of a dream.”

“I guess.”

“We should talk on the bus.”

“I’ll see you there.”

Oikawa moved through his breakfast, repeating the motions of the past two days. He and Iwaizumi met up on the way to school, and this time, they avoided the lecture on being late. Again, they took their seat on the bus.

“What are we going to do?” Iwaizumi asked.

Oikawa wracked his brains for something, _anything_ that might be a solution. “Maybe we should win better?”

Iwaizumi blinked. “Stop all the points we know are coming?”

“Worth a shot,” Oikawa said. “And having better stats than Ushijima and Shiratorizawa would be nice.”

 

* * *

 

The first time they tried to use their foreknowledge, they couldn’t quite do it. It felt like cheating. They tried, they really did. But the groans of frustration that came from Dewaichi’s team and their own teammates’ praise for Oikawa’s foresight felt empty.

Makki bumped fists with Oikawa right after scoring another point. Oikawa smiled back, forcing himself to take pride in his ‘predictions’.

“It’s not the same,” Oikawa said to Iwaizumi, after they won the first set 25 - 13: a far cry from the original 25 - 20.

“It is the same,” Iwaizumi pointed out. “That’s the problem.”

In the end, they decided to play the second set the same way they did the first time, and they kept everything the same for Dateko and Karasuno. In the end, they found themselves dozing off on the bus ride home and waking up on October 25th.

They repeated the cycle four more times, unable to press their advantage. Their movements became routine; their conversations scripted. Oikawa blurted out his captain’s speeches without a second thought; Iwaizumi’s ramen request didn’t carry the same weight it did the first time around.

Almost a full week of monotony passed, and no amount of Googling ever explained the time loop.

“We need to do something,” Oikawa said, looking out the window on their ninth bus ride home.

“Fine,” Iwaizumi said. “Let’s win.”

 

* * *

 

They won the match against Dewaichi 2:0. Their first set was 25 - 9, compared to the original 25 - 20, and the second set was even easier than the first. Their teammates were impressed with how Oikawa ‘predicted’ the flow of the game, how Iwaizumi always seemed to know exactly where to spike. The refs commented on how Aobajousai's team was on some whole new level -- with a score like that, it was obvious that Dewaichi never stood a chance.

It made Oikawa feel a little sick. The audience never saw how Dewaichi’s libero saved nearly every single one of Iwaizumi's feints. They never saw how their middle blocker stood toe to toe against Mattsun, how their first year wing spiker could aim wipes that kept Seijoh on high alert from beginning to end.

It felt cheap, using their knowledge like that. But he swallowed the feeling and watched as Dateko’s Iron Wall became nothing more than a gentle breeze against Oikawa's calculated decisions and Iwaizumi's forethought. He tried very, very hard to ignore the looks of disappointment on the retired third years as they watched their kouhai lose point after point. He kept his eyes low, not wanting to witness the pathetic defeat of a team he truly respected and considered a strong opponent.

Iwaizumi was uncomfortable with it too, he could tell -- but at that point, their only other options were extreme boredom or losing. And losing wasn't something Iwaizumi and Oikawa planned to do.

They lined up for their match with Karasuno. Oikawa knew what was coming. He was up to serve, and Sawamura would receive. They would rally, and at some point, Kageyama would receive, and their libero would go for a back line toss.

He warned the team, resulting in a save and a spike from Makki, and Aobajousai took first blood.

Using that, Oikawa was able to get a couple more points, starting off with a 4 - 0 lead.

And then things began to change.

Dewaichi and Dateko were predictable. Even the first time around, Oikawa had spent all night watching their games, learning their habits and strategies. Even as they lost, Dewaichi would focus on quicks and wipes. Dateko would maintain their Iron Wall.

But Karasuno, though... Oikawa would admit that even _he_ had underestimated their omnivorous creativity.

Karasuno’s first point came from a rally.

Iwaizumi had just spiked, and their libero managed to send it up. But their team was in disarray, everyone scrambling as Kageyama moved into a setting position.

Oikawa could see Shorty running up for a quick.

They had practiced reading those, and Watari, their libero, prepared himself -- Hinata Shouyou would hit crosses more often than not, and Makki was in the position to receive a straight.

But something was off. Shrimpy jumped forward, a little too close to the net. Oikawa's eyes widened as Kageyama's eyes darted over to the decoy. Kageyama tossed, the ball floating too close to the net -- and Oikawa rushed forward, recognizing the play from before.

It was too late.

Hinata smacked it straight down, right behind the line. Karasuno erupted into cheers. Oikawa hissed in frustration.

“What the hell?” Iwaizumi said, echoing his own thoughts. “That doesn't happen until the third set!”

Oikawa grumbled. “Stupid Tobio-chan,” he muttered angrily.

Five points in. This time around, Karasuno would have the entire match to develop that play. But though Oikawa was frustrated with that, he felt a rush of adrenaline fill his body. After a week of the exact same routine, this was something different. Something new.

Kageyama was up to serve. His jump serve, though familiar, wasn’t quite the same -- and the difference meant everything to Iwaizumi and Oikawa.

They felt the life coming back into their plays, their passion reigniting. It had happened so gradually that Oikawa wasn’t even aware of it -- in the week of October 25th, he’d almost become bored of volleyball.

But here was something new.

The next few plays were readable and easy, but once they got going, Karasuno began to deviate from their norm.

Iwaizumi let out a loud curse as the tall, glasses-wearing middle blocker slammed a spike into the corner of the court. Oikawa narrowed his eyes.

“He’s never spiked before,” he said, unable to keep the glee out of his voice.

“I know,” Iwaizumi replied, his own body vibrating with excitement.

 _Nothing was certain,_ Oikawa thought, but this time, the thought wasn’t anxious. This time, he welcomed the tension, the frustration.

He’d missed this.

Perhaps their teammates could sense the relief emanating from them because all of Aobajousai played even better. Iwaizumi and Oikawa cheered and yelled along with everyone else. For the first time in a week, their victory felt anything but hollow.

Aobajousai laughed and cried on their way to the bus. Iwaizumi and Oikawa slipped into their seats, grinning widely.

Oikawa could still feel his heart pounding.

“We _won_ ,” he whispered, and this time, the words meant something. The grin on his face was infectious.

Iwaizumi was just as excited. “I almost forgot why I love volleyball,” he said quietly. “Maybe we can finally move on.”

“I hope so,” Oikawa said. “I’ve been waiting to play Shiratorizawa for a week. I can’t wait any longer.”

“Did somebody say Shiratorizawa?” Mattsun piped up from in front of them.

“I can’t wait,” Makki buzzed. “Those assholes are going _down._ ”

They chattered around with the rest of their team, their eyelids gradually growing heavier and heavier.

When Oikawa woke up on October 25th, the first thing he did was punch the wall.

 

* * *

 

“We need to end this,” Iwaizumi said, as they walked to school for the twentieth time.

“Yes,” Oikawa agreed. “This has been the worst day of my life.”

Iwaizumi shot him a sharp look, and Oikawa scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Well, the opportunity was there…”

“Shut up, dumbass,” Iwaizumi said, and he paused in his walking. “What haven’t we done yet?”

Oikawa stopped, too. He thought through every alien, every time travel movie he’d seen. Then he thought of every movie he hadn’t seen.

“We should do research,” Oikawa decided. “Let’s watch that one western movie -- what was it, Groundhog Day?”

Iwaizumi blinked. “What? When are we going to find time for that?”

Oikawa was silent for a moment. “... When _aren’t_ we going to find time for that?” He said, after a long pause.

Iwaizumi looked away. “I guess. But… ditching?”

“We’ve played more volleyball in the past twenty-four hours than most people do in a season,” Oikawa pointed out. “I mean. I love volleyball. But…”

“I suppose,” Iwaizumi said, still looking uncomfortable.

They ended up in Iwaizumi’s house, with a stack of sci-fi movies they rented out. The movies ran the gamut -- comedy, horror, thriller. Iwaizumi popped about six bags of popcorn, and they settled in for the long haul.

The twenty-third time Oikawa checked his phone during a movie, Iwaizumi’s hand snaked out and grabbed it out of his hand.

“Iwa-chan!” He complained, reaching for the phone. He tried to wrestle Iwaizumi for the phone, but it was all in vain. His shorter but far more muscular friend pinned him to the ground and sat on him, holding Oikawa’s phone.

“No,” Iwaizumi said, turning it off. The angry texts from Makki and Mattsun and the rest of the team disappeared from the screen.

“But --”

“Stop torturing yourself,” Iwaizumi said. “We made our decision.”

Oikawa flinched -- it was his idea to skip the games in the first place -- but he let Iwaizumi keep his phone, and they returned to their position on the couch. They finished _Edge of Tomorrow_ without another conversation.

He couldn’t help but feel guilty, though. He skipped the tournament. His team was out there right now, playing volleyball without their setter or their ace. He wondered if they’d won against Dewaichi, if it would change anything. He wondered if Seijoh could beat Karasuno without them.

When he woke up in bed a few hours later, it was the first time he was thankful that the date on his phone read _October 25th._

 

* * *

 

“Do you feel unfulfilled?” Oikawa asked, as they changed courts between the Dewaichi and the Dateko game. The pair hung back, away from the team, so they could have their conversation uninterrupted.

Iwaizumi blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“In that one anime,” Oikawa said. “ _The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya._ ”

“The one with the eight time loop episodes and we ended up watching through all of them?” Iwaizumi asked. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Kyon and the rest couldn’t move on until Haruhi felt that summer was allowed to end,” Oikawa said. “I dunno. Maybe we feel like there’s something holding us back?”

“What would be holding us back?” Iwaizumi asked. “We beat Dewaichi and Dateko. We beat Karasuno. I didn’t have any regrets the first time around, and I don’t have any now, except maybe that I’m never going to see October 26th.”

“Are you sure?” Oikawa pressed. “I mean -- why here? Why not at Shiratorizawa? What is it about today that is keeping us here?”

“I don’t know,” Iwaizumi said, somewhat irritably. “Why are you asking this now? It’s been a month and a half.”

“I’m _tired,_ Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said. “I can’t take this anymore. I think I’m going crazy. Fuck, I don’t even know if doing this crap is worth anything anymore --”

Iwaizumi’s eyes widened, and he clenched his fists. “Shut up!” He roared, grabbing Oikawa by the shoulders and shoving him into a wall.

Oikawa was still, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Don’t say that, you dumbass,” Iwaizumi demanded. “Don’t say shit like that. You’re not allowed to quit. I’m here too, okay? If I’m suffering through eternity, I’m sure as _hell_ not going it alone.”

Oikawa nodded mutely. Iwaizumi let up on the pressure, and Oikawa rubbed his shoulders.

“Ow,” Oikawa muttered.

“You’ll live,” Iwaizumi said, his voice low. “C’mon. Let’s beat Dateko and get to Karasuno. I think playing them is the only thing keeping me sane.”

In the fifty-three loops they’d gone through, Iwaizumi and Oikawa learned Dewaichi and Dateko inside and out. They could beat the other two teams in their sleep. Karasuno, however, was a completely different story.

In the fifty-three loops they’d gone through, the other team never failed to surprise them. Whether it was a surprise quick, a random change of pace, or some strange, new play that they’d never seen before, Karasuno always managed to come up with something new.

Not once did they manage a straight-set win. Somehow, someway -- those stubborn crows held on, always managing to drag out a win and turn the game into a full, three-set match. For a team composed primarily of first and second years, and for a team that literally wasn’t on the map until recently, Karasuno was really something else.

Still, Iwaizumi and Oikawa always managed to squeeze out a win in the third set. But each time it got harder and harder.

Even as they learned more and more of Karasuno’s plays, even as they forced the other team to reveal their hand over and over again, the crows never seemed to fall.

Iwaizumi and Oikawa lived for Karasuno. Their games were the variation needed to spice up their monotonous, repetitive life.

They won their next Karasuno match, but barely. For weeks, their deuces had been steadily increasing in size. 33-31. 36-34. There was one, memorable game when they pushed it all the way to 40-38, and on the bus ride home, Iwaizumi and Oikawa were too tired to even think about whether or not they would wake up in the future.

Every few loops or so, they would ditch the tournament. The initial fear of the timeline ever righting itself had dwindled to almost nothing. Even if their bodies woke up refreshed and ready every morning, their minds were worn out to the point where anything and everything looked like a volleyball. Oikawa may have been a die-hard volleyball fanatic, but even he needed his breaks.

“I forgot we had a test next Tuesday,” Oikawa said as he flipped through his agenda, his head on Iwaizumi’s lap. They were hanging around Iwaizumi’s house again, letting their minds focus on something other than the sport they so loved.

“Oh,” Iwaizumi said, flipping through the channels. “What was it on?”

“Mathematics,” Oikawa said. “God. I hardly even remember how to do this calculus crap.”

“You might not have to,” Iwaizumi said quietly. “What is this, one-hundred and thirty-three?”

“Something like that,” Oikawa said. “I lost count at the seventy mark.”

“What if we never turn eighteen?” Iwaizumi asked.

“It might not be that bad,” Oikawa said. “Some people would kill for eternal youth.”

They fell silent.

Even if they did joke about it, it still hurt. Maybe one day they’d learn to be okay with it. Maybe one day they’d be able to let go of their friends; learn to accept the memories they made were always forgotten with every loop.

But it was still too soon. Oikawa silently flipped through his agenda. In the beginning, he’d scribbled a few goals on the first page: beat Kageyama, beat Ushiwaka, and make it to Nationals.

He bit his lip. Out of the three, he’d only accomplished one -- and even then, he never actually got to reap the fruits of his reward.

Oikawa’s eyes started to burn. Iwaizumi’s face blurred above him, and he choked down a pained gasp.

“Hey,” Iwaizumi said, quietly, and he gently grabbed the agenda out of Oikawa’s hands.

“Iwa-chan, I can’t --” he choked out. _I can’t do this anymore,_ he wanted to scream. _I don’t want to do this anymore._

“Shh,” Iwaizumi said, and he wrapped his arms around Oikawa, giving him a tight squeeze. He pulled Oikawa in close, his voice soft and soothing as he whispered in his ear. “There’s no one else I’d rather spend eternal youth with.”

With that, Oikawa fell apart. Suddenly they were both crying, both sobbing. They cried for volleyball, for the teams they could beat without a second thought, for a challenge they would never face again. They cried for their friends, for the relationships that would never grow past what they were in the present. They cried for their future, for all the hopes and dreams, for the good and the bad they would never get to see.

“That’s so fucking cheesy,” Oikawa managed to get out in between teary-eyed sobs.

“Like you could do better, dumbass,” Iwaizumi said.

There was no ‘I love you’ or some dramatic confession. There was no sudden realization, no moment of clarity.

They watched as the other broke apart, and they put themselves back together again. There was some deeper level of understanding there, some bond deeper than romance, deeper than friendship.

_There’s no one else I’d rather spend eternal youth with._

It was cheesy, Oikawa admitted, but that didn’t make it any less true.

The next loop, Mattsun and Makki only lifted an eyebrow when the two climbed onto the bus holding hands.

“It’s about time,” Makki muttered as they took their seats.

“Yeah,” Oikawa agreed. It only took about one-hundred and thirty-four loops to get around to it.

 

* * *

 

Another twenty-eight loops later found them back at the tournament, walking from one court to another. They just beat Dateko, and they followed the familiar path to the only court where something ever changed.

“We still have a few minutes,” Iwaizumi said. “Let’s go outside.”

“Sure,” Oikawa agreed.

It was child’s play to sneak away from their team. They slipped out of the gym and walked over to the steps. Iwaizumi sat down, and Oikawa took his seat next to him.

“I don't get it,” Oikawa said quietly. He ran his hands through his hair and stared at his hands. “We've tried everything. We’ve played a thousand different games and a thousand different plays. Why are we stuck?”

Iwaizumi was as still as a stone. They sat together, just outside of the gym as the seconds ticked down to their match with Karasuno.

“Maybe,” Iwaizumi said, his voice low.

Oikawa looked up, his brown eyes catching Iwaizumi’s green.

“Maybe we shouldn't win.”

Oikawa stiffened. “What?”

“I mean, think about it,” Iwaizumi said. “It’s been almost four, five months by now. We’ve won. We’ve skipped. We even tried crashing Shiratorizawa’s match and challenging Ushiwaka right there. But in all this time, we haven’t lost a game.”

“Some people would be proud of that fact,” Oikawa said, somewhat defensively. “And Aobajousai’s lost before.”

“That was only because we skipped,” Iwaizumi said. “Maybe we have to be there. I mean. I meant what I said -- I guess I’m not opposed to spending an eternity with a certain asshole --”

“Hey!”

“--but that doesn’t mean I _want_ to spend _this_ particular eternity with you,” Iwaizumi finished. “We already know we can beat Karasuno. Why do we have to prove it over and over again?”

“What, did you forget about Nationals?” Oikawa asked angrily. “This isn’t our final match! Our season isn’t over!”

“It’s just a game!”

“This isn’t _just a game,_ ” Oikawa hissed. “We’ve played volleyball together since elementary school, and this is our last high school season. We can’t just throw that away!”

“I don’t want to!” Iwaizumi said.

“Then why do you want to lose?”

“I _don’t_ ,” Iwaizumi protested. “I’m just saying that we might _have_ to!”

Oikawa grimaced. “There _has_ to be a way we can get out of here and still win,” he insisted.

“Oikawa, do you really want to spend the rest of our lives stuck on October 25th?” Iwaizumi snapped. “I want to graduate! I want to go to college! I want to have new experiences and meet new people, and I want to _move on._ If that means we have to lose one game that we’ve won a million times before, then I’ll do it!”

“Move on?” Oikawa yelled. “How are we supposed to move on? What the fuck does that even mean?”

“We have to grow up sometime!” Iwaizumi insisted.

“No, we don’t!” Oikawa roared. “In case you haven’t noticed, _we can’t!_ ”

Silence.

They glared at each other, neither willing to back down. Makki came out to get them, ready to lecture them into oblivion, but maybe he could sense the tension in the air because he ended up not saying a word.

They won the match, but barely.

Oikawa made a point on the bus ride home by sitting in a completely different seat. Iwaizumi scowled and glared out the window.

 

* * *

 

Oikawa woke up in his own room on October 25th and mechanically went through his day.

For the first time since that initial week, they ran through the tournament the exact same way they started: word-for-word, play-for-play.

Right before the match with Karasuno, Oikawa flinched when Iwaizumi placed his hand on his shoulder.

“If you screw it up, you’re treating us to ramen,” Iwaizumi said, his voice flat and lifeless.

Oikawa remained silent as Makki and Mattsun placed their orders.

He’d never heard Iwaizumi sound so dead before.

 

* * *

 

“I’m sorry,” Oikawa blurted out, as they walked to school in the next loop.

Iwaizumi looked over. Then he punched Oikawa in the shoulder.

“Ow!”

“You’re forgiven,” Iwaizumi said.

Oikawa smiled. He let his hand slip back into Iwaizumi’s own.

“They have to earn it,” Oikawa said. “I'm not losing to Karasuno on purpose.”

“Okay,” Iwaizumi said. “I don’t really think I’m ready, either.”

 

* * *

 

Oikawa remembered something the head coach said, once. He didn’t think he was meant to hear it -- it was one of those offhand, ‘coach comments’ that the players pretended not to listen to.

 _“Nine times out of ten, we beat Karasuno,_ ” he’d said to the assistant coach. _“But there’s always that possibility that they’ll beat us instead._ ”

Back then, Oikawa had taken it as an insult. He didn’t believe in luck -- or rather, he didn’t want to believe in luck. He acknowledged that some people had better chances than others (Tobio-chan came to mind), but he refused to believe that something as ridiculous and unpredictable as sheer _chance_ could decide the outcome of a game.

Last season, during a time-out in the second set of their game against Shiratorizawa, he remembered the words he spat out, fierce and determined.

The score was 23 - 19. Shiratorizawa was on the verge of taking the match.

 _“If we lose,_ ” Oikawa declared,  _“we lose because they are better. We won’t give up. We won’t drop out. If they can beat a team as great as ours, then they deserve it. But until this match is over, we fight to the end._ ”

They lost, 25 - 20. Oikawa knew that Shiratorizawa was a stronger team, and despite his tears and screams of frustration, he knew that they deserved to win.

But then Karasuno came along. With their shoddy receives and their haphazard attacks, he’d watched as they beat _his_ team in a practice match. He’d scowled at Kageyama’s sheer idiocy, glared at Hinata’s complete ridiculousness. He watched as their captain filled in the holes in their defense that didn’t deserve to be filled.

 _We’re better than you,_ he wanted to scream. _Why are you winning?_

He’d gotten his revenge in the Interhigh-Preliminaries, as they pushed the game into the third set and into the thirty-point mark. The image of that final spike hitting the ground ingrained itself into his mind, their victory searing itself into his memory.

And yet, it wasn’t enough.

He’d thought that beating Karasuno would finally prove it to him. Prove that he’d surpassed Kageyama, prove that his hard work and dedication would pay off. But he’d heard his coach’s words.

Nine times out of ten, Aobajousai was the better team. But there was always that chance. Always a possibility.

Oikawa wondered if he would ever see it happen.

 

* * *

 

Two more loops passed after their conversation. Two more wins against Karasuno -- but Oikawa could feel the string pulling tighter. He knew it was about to break.

He moved through the motions of the third set; his eyes followed every movement, cataloging every difference.

Karasuno’s second setter got into position, and the other five members geared up for a synchronized attack.

Their ace slammed the ball down. Makki dove. The ball veered off at a sharp angle, heading for the benches.

_The long toss._

Oikawa found himself running for the stray ball. He felt himself falling into the familiar position, his hands moving and getting ready to send the ball across the court to Iwaizumi.

Their eyes met, and time slowed down around them.

Oikawa thought for a moment.

How long ago had it been since the first time this had happened? How long since he’d played this particular match, sent this particular toss -- and thought of nothing but this score?

Once upon a time, he’d lived and breathed for this game. He remembered the hours upon hours of late night practice, the hundreds of practice serves that he worked so hard to perfect. He remembered obsessing over this match, _dreaming_ of this match. He’d tracked down hours of film to watch and study, taking in every play Karasuno had ever performed. He’d stayed up late, planning strategies to win. He poured his blood, sweat, and tears into this one match.

And it had paid off.

During these loops, he’d watched as Karasuno evolved right before their very eyes. He’d seen plays he’d never seen before, ridiculous spikes and quicks and attacks that somehow managed to catch him off guard, even after all this time. And each time, Seijoh had triumphed. They had _won_ , over and over again. Oikawa had proven his worth. His _team_ had proven their worth.

Even if his season ended here, Aobajousai would still go on. Oikawa wanted to see that happen _._

Oikawa let out a small breath.

Time resumed.

His fingers met the ball, and he blinked, startled.

This was _not_ the same toss he’d been doing for the past six months.  

He tried to correct it, but it was too late. The ball flew from his fingertips, and perhaps to everyone else's eyes, the toss was perfect.

But that small change, that small shift in trajectory, stuck out to Oikawa. He held his breath as Iwaizumi jumped up, the ball just a _little_ too slow, a _little_ too far.

Iwaizumi spiked the ball -- but instead of the original straight, he hit in a cross. The ball slammed into Sawamura’s arms, ricocheting away from the court.

Oikawa and Iwaizumi watched the play with wide eyes.

From this point on, everything was new territory.

Oikawa held his breath as the bald spiker sprinted and dove. The ball flew up, arcing in the air.

“Last hit!” He shouted.

“Get it over!”

Karasuno’s ace jumped up and _swung._ Watari, bless him, received the spike. The ball flew into the net, and Kyoutani barely managed to keep it from touching the ground again.

“Free ball!”

“Hit it over, Kageyama!”

Kageyama jumped up for a spike, but Kindaichi was there to block it. The ball fell back onto Karasuno’s side, and it hit Karasuno’s other setter in the face.

Oikawa’s eyes darted over to a blur of orange. Hinata backed up, preparing himself to run. “Send it here!” he yelled.

 _Bring it on,_ Oikawa thought. He watched as Iwaizumi, Kindaichi, and Kyoutani gathered together for a three-man block. Oikawa shifted over, waiting for the orange decoy to hit the ball through the space Kindaichi and Kyoutani left behind, and into his waiting arms.

But to his surprise, it didn’t quite work like that.

The ball brushed the tips of Kyoutani’s fingertips, changing the trajectory ever so slightly. Oikawa’s eyes widened as the ball bounced off his arms and out of the court. _A wipe!_

He watched as the ball spun behind him and hit the ground with a resounding _thud._

 _It’s over,_ he thought. And then -- _even now, Karasuno still manages to surprise me._

The whistle blew, and Karasuno erupted into cheers.

Oikawa pulled himself up. The sounds seemed to bend around him, fading into a distant hum.

Mechanically, he shook hands with Sawamura. He remembered the first time he’d lived through this moment -- the frustration, the disappointment that had radiated out from the other captain.

“Good game,” he said quietly.

Six months of winning against Karasuno, and somehow they still caught him off guard. Six months of monotonous repetition, and this was the one team that kept him sane.

He wondered if Sawamura could hear the genuine _gratefulness_ behind his words.

“Good game,” Sawamura replied.

Oikawa stood still, even as the rest of his team walked away and Sawamura turned back to his side of the court.

Oikawa’s eyes met Kageyama’s from across the net. The first year was watching him, a curious look in his eyes.

“This makes it one win and one loss,” Oikawa said, the lie thick in his mouth. “... Don’t let it go to your head, got it?”

Kageyama stared at him, his face unreadable. “...I won’t.”

Then they parted. Oikawa returned to his team, letting the coach’s words flow over him.

“No matter what I say, the result won’t change.” The coach turned, making eye contact with each and every one of them. “You won’t feel any less frustrated, either.”

Oikawa curled his fingers into a fist and tried to breathe.

“There are likely plays you regret having made, as well.”

He thought of his toss, the one that came a millisecond too late, a millimeter too far.

He thought of Iwaizumi’s spike -- the cross that should have been a straight, the point that should have been theirs.

“Even so, I want to tell you this anyway: you fought well.”

And with that, the tears started leaking out. Kindaichi screwed up his face in shame. Makki and Mattsun stood, their eyes closed as the tears dripped down their cheeks. Oikawa looked over and watched as Iwaizumi headed back to the bench, his face blank and empty.

 _I messed up that toss,_ he thought. _One-hundred and sixty-six loops, and I messed up Iwaizumi’s toss._

With tears leaking out of his eyes, Oikawa slammed his hand into Iwaizumi’s back and gripped his shoulder. Iwaizumi looked up, his eyes red and watery.

“I didn’t think it would hurt this badly,” he said.

“I know,” Oikawa said.

“I’m sorry,” Iwaizumi said.

“Stop torturing yourself,” Oikawa said, echoing Iwaizumi’s words from all those months ago. “We made our decision.”

Iwaizumi didn’t reply. But Oikawa tugged him in a little closer, letting the spiker lean into his grip.

_Let’s bear this loss together._

 

* * *

 

Oikawa didn’t have to look at his phone to know that the time loop was over. Even before he opened his eyes, he could tell just by the stiffness in his shoulders and the heaviness of his thighs. Tired and sore, he climbed out of bed and stumbled his way through his morning routine. For the first time in six months, he had something other than leftover curry and miso soup for breakfast.

It was so refreshing, so different, that he wolfed it down in record time.

“Thank you,” he said, hugging his mother before he left, stepping outside with his school supplies and his volleyball bag slung over his shoulder.

School, he thought. God. After six months of volleyball and movie marathons, he wondered if he would still be able to find his seat in class.

He quickened his pace when he caught sight of Iwaizumi's figure up ahead.

“Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi stopped and turned around. Oikawa jogged over and caught up, a smile on his face.

“Happy one day anniversary,” He blurted out.

Iwaizumi blinked. And he grinned.

“Thanks, you dumbass,” he laughed out, punching Oikawa in the shoulder.

They laced their fingers together, walking side by side.

“You owe me ramen, by the way,” Iwaizumi said.

Oikawa made a face. “Mattsun and Makki, too.”

Iwaizumi laughed quietly. “We deserve it.”

The sky was cloudy and gray. A cool breeze shifted the air around them. October 26th.

“You know,” Oikawa said, his voice low. “If we had to end our season right here, I'm glad we got an extra six months.”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi agreed. “We're probably the only high schoolers in the country who played volleyball for four seasons.”

Oikawa closed his eyes, replaying the events of the past six months through his mind.

“I don't think I can watch the Shiratorizawa-Karasuno game,” he admitted. “I think I'd still blame myself no matter who won.”

Iwaizumi glanced over at Oikawa. “You'll end up watching it anyway,” he said.

“No, I won't,” Oikawa said stubbornly.

“You will,” Iwaizumi said. “Don't worry. I'll find you.”

“God, that sounds creepy,” Oikawa complained.

Iwaizumi squeezed his hand. “I'm your boyfriend, you asshole.”

Oikawa snorted.

They walked. Before long, the buildings of Aobajousai High came into view. Together, they took the familiar path to the volleyball gym.

Right outside the door, they paused.

“You know,” Oikawa said. “They had one shot. _One_. Out of one-hundred and sixty-six.”

“Kinda unfair that they managed to grab that one chance,” Iwaizumi muttered.

“That's a crow for you,” Oikawa said. “Omnivorous bastards.”

He slid open the door to the gym. Once upon a time, they were celebrating their victory and planning for the final against Shiratorizawa. Once upon a time, they went to school, high on success and buzzing with excitement for the rest of their season.

A future that never was.

But even so, Oikawa found that he didn’t have any regrets.

They stepped into the gym, ready to face their future together.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like this needs more? IDK.
> 
> As always, feedback is always appreciated :)


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